


feathers from a broken wing

by galaxyblue



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Bottom Dong Si Cheng | WinWin, Established Relationship, M/M, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nakamoto Yuta Has Tattoos, Nipple Play, Organized Crime, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Riding, Smut, Spit As Lube, Time Skips, Top Nakamoto Yuta, Unhealthy Relationships, i can't even call this angst it's mostly smut, porn tags incoming, this isn't a canon tag? the fuck, this isn't even all of it, wow they fuck a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyblue/pseuds/galaxyblue
Summary: Nakamoto Yuta is no angel, and Sicheng knows it. It doesn't change the fact that he belongs to him.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 20
Kudos: 214





	feathers from a broken wing

**Author's Note:**

> i couldn't get this idea out of my head and i didn't want to think about it anymore so have it here
> 
> i'm assuming we're all adults here but i'll say it just in case: real life organized crime sucks. don't do it
> 
> hope you'll like this

It's dark when he comes in, closer to dawn than midnight. His steps are light but Sicheng hears them from where he's curled up in bed, half hidden under the sheets. He doesn't move. 

He hears the footsteps recede to the bathroom, and then the running water. Sicheng stays as still as a statue, even when the water stops and the footsteps get louder and a body slides into the bed beside him. 

An arm wraps around his waist, going up to his chest as a warm, firm body presses up to his back. Sicheng stays perfectly still, evens his breathing out, and waits.

“You're not sleeping.”

A smile breaks on Sicheng's face. He turns then, and faces the man in his bed. “You're late,” he says. “I'm mad.”

Yuta hums and holds Sicheng's hand to his face. “I'm sorry,” he says. “Busy night.”

Sicheng searches his face in the dim light. There's a smile there, bright and innocent, but Sicheng's not fooled. Yuta always looks like an angel when he smiles. It takes everyone time to realize he lost his wings long ago.

“What were you doing?” Sicheng asks.

“Work,” Yuta says. 

He's avoiding the question, which is an answer in itself. Sicheng takes Yuta's hand to inspect it, and Yuta lets him. There are fresh bruises on his knuckles. 

Before Sicheng can say anything Yuta kisses him. His lips are bruising, almost forceful, and when he sinks his teeth into Sicheng's bottom lip there's a sting that has Sicheng moaning. Yuta seizes his chance and licks into his mouth, stroking his skilled tongue against Sicheng's, holding him close in a wet, messy kiss. 

When they finally part there's spit running down Sicheng's chin and he's out of breath. Yuta starts kissing Sicheng's neck, nipping with his teeth where he's sensitive, sucking marks that will last.

“I missed you,” he says, in between his kisses. “I missed you so much, baby, did you miss me?”

Sicheng nods fervently. He can't talk now.

Yuta repositions them, settling Sicheng on his back and hovering over him. He doesn't bother with the buttons of his silk pyjama shirt and rips it open, exposing his toned chest and slender waist. He takes one of Sicheng's nipples into his mouth, sucking and laving his tongue over it until it's stiff and Sicheng is squirming under him. He pinches Sicheng's other nipple with a hand, rolling it between his fingertips. 

Sicheng whines, needy. He wants more. Yuta understands him—he always understands him—and moves lower down his body, trailing kisses down the line of his flat abdomen. He mouths at Sicheng's erection through his silk pyjama pants, and Sicheng only whines louder. It's good but it's not enough, Yuta's teasing, kitten licks, his little nibbles. Sicheng's squirming in the sheets.

“Yuta, please,” he says. “I missed you so much, I want you so much, please.”

In an instant Yuta's face is over Sicheng's, and he kisses him deep and hard. Yuta slides Sicheng's pants off, and then makes him shrug off the shirt too, tossing it away. 

“I like you naked,” he says, and his smile is anything but angelic. 

He stretches Sicheng out quickly, one finger then two then three, the sound of the lube squelching accompanied by Sicheng's breathy moans. Yuta kisses and bites at the insides of Sicheng's thighs as he works, leaving marks to match the ones on his neck. He licks over every one, proud of his artwork. 

“Raw,” Sicheng says, as Yuta withdraws his fingers when he's satisfied. “I want to feel you.”

Yuta kisses the inside of Sicheng's thigh. “Whatever you want,” he says. “I'll fill you up, baby. I'll be dripping out of you by morning. Knees.”

Sicheng scrambles to obey, getting on his hands and knees and presenting his ass to Yuta. The other man gropes him with one hand as he slides in. Sicheng moans, feeling every inch enter slow. It's been years and it's still so good every time. 

Yuta doesn't give him any time to get used to it. From the start he moves at a fast pace, fucking into Sicheng with sharp thrusts, controlling the pace with his hands tight at Sicheng's hips. Sicheng can only allow himself to be used at the pace Yuta sets, fierce and almost violent. It's so good, so good he can't think, so good nothing exists except him and Yuta and where they're connected. 

Sicheng's arms give out and he collapses face first onto the bed. Yuta growls out a curse in Japanese and adjusts the angle of his thrusts. Sicheng cries out the first time he hits his sweet spot, and then he's choking on all the moans that try to escape his throat as Yuta hits it again and again. He's relentless, a monster. Sicheng can't raise himself back up. He can only moan and cry out with pleasure, held up by Yuta's iron grip on his hips. 

Sicheng climaxes first, untouched, spilling all over their sheets. The intensity has him screaming, tears escaping his eyes. Yuta doesn't slow down, still chasing his own orgasm as Sicheng gets over his high and starts crying out from the overstimulation. But when Yuta's hips still and he comes, Sicheng moans in satisfaction and pleasure, feeling the warmth spread inside and fill him up, just like Yuta promised. 

They lay in bed, Yuta's chest to Sicheng's back since Yuta won't pull out. Sicheng is exhausted. 

“Satisfied, baby?” Yuta asks, stroking Sicheng's lower belly. 

Sicheng puts his hand over Yuta's, feeling the bruised knuckles. He nods shyly. 

“You're so cute,” Yuta coos, and he kisses Sicheng's cheek, and then his lips. 

He pulls out and Sicheng flinches at the movement, and then whines at the loss. But Yuta moves down his body until he's between his legs, putting strong hands on his thighs and pushing them back to get a clear view of Sicheng's hole. Sicheng can feel Yuta's seed start dripping out and he whines, embarrassed, covering his face with both hands.

“You should see what you look like from down here, so hot,” Yuta says. He presses two fingers into Sicheng's loose hole, and Sicheng whines louder, from embarrassment and sensitivity. Yuta removes his fingers with a wet sound, and replaces them with his mouth. 

“No, please, please,” Sicheng begs, but it's never any use when it comes to Yuta. He's still so sensitive from his last orgasm, and when Yuta's tongue slides past his entrance to lick up his own cum, Sicheng screams. 

Sicheng is sobbing from the overstimulation by the time Yuta is satisfied he's cleaned him up enough. His cock is a dark, angry pink, hard again, and Yuta coos at it before taking it in his hand and stroking it from base to tip. Sicheng thrashes as Yuta digs his thumbnail into the slit. Tears stream down his face and his chest heaves as he hiccups. 

“You're so fucking cute, baby,” Yuta says, tenderly wiping a tear from Sicheng's face. “You're getting me hard again. Can you take me again?”

Every nerve in Sicheng's body is screaming, his muscles tight with tension. He looks up at Yuta, his handsome face barely visible in the darkness, and nods. 

This time Yuta takes it slow. He grinds his hips into Sicheng, slow and deep, with practiced, measured strokes. Sicheng is falling apart underneath him. He's too tired to move, his body limp and sticky with sweat as Yuta fucks him. Yuta brackets him with his arms and pulls his hips up and into his lap and continues his slow pace, but this time the angle makes Sicheng choke out sobs and moans and broken sounds as shockwaves of hot pleasure jump up his spine. He chants Yuta's name like a prayer, unable to think of anything else. 

When Yuta finally takes mercy on him and wraps his fingers around his cock Sicheng has his second climax of the night, this time painting his belly and chest with it. Yuta moans and pulls out, jerking himself off and finishing on Sicheng, adding to the mess. Sicheng is too tired to do more than groan weakly. 

Yuta cleans him up with a damp washcloth, gentle and careful. He murmurs soft words of praise and fondness, and then scoops him up in his arms and holds him close to his chest. His fingers rub Sicheng's back, and they're gentle even if his knuckles are not. 

Sicheng is 20 when he meets Yuta for the first time. He’s in a cafe bent over an assignment, coffee long gone room temperature, when someone slides into the chair opposite. Sicheng is tall and beautiful and he’s used to unasked attention—his friends like to say he emits an aura that attracts creeps. But the man who sits at the table is not a creep. He’s young and handsome, and his smile is the prettiest thing Sicheng’s ever seen, blinding bright and sunny.

“I was going to make an excuse to sit with you, but I decided it would be pointless anyway,” he says. “I’m Nakamoto Yuta.”

Japanese, but his Korean is good, and he talks just slow enough for Sicheng to understand. Sicheng murmurs a hello and ducks his head.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I bribed the barista to tell me what you ordered,” Yuta says. He slides a steaming cup over. “You looked like you could use a refill.”

“Bribed?” Sicheng repeats slowly, frowning at the new word.

Yuta breaks into an even bigger smile. “You haven’t been in Korea long, have you?”

Sicheng shakes his head. 

“Then you have to let me show you around Seoul,” Yuta says.

Sicheng is unconvinced then. But without being asked Yuta patiently explains what the new word means, smiling fondly and not mocking or annoyed, and then he helps Sicheng understand the difficult words in his assignment too. He’s so kind and patient, and when he smiles at Sicheng it’s sincere. He’s like an angel, Sicheng thinks. A beautiful angel who came to him in this cafe and helped him. 

So he lets Yuta show him around Seoul. He lets Yuta take him to little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, to arcades where they still have the game machines from the 90's, to the banks of the Han River and the red light district in Miari. Sicheng sticks close to Yuta as they go through seedy clubs and men and women leer at him hungrily.

“They’re looking at you because you’re gorgeous,” Yuta says. _Gorgeous_ is one of the first Korean words Sicheng learned from Yuta. “But tell me if anyone gets too close or makes you uncomfortable.”

“What will you do?” Sicheng asks.

“I’ll take care of them,” Yuta says without hesitation. 

Sicheng’s heart rate picks up. It’s the way Yuta says it, the absolute confidence in his words. He will take down anyone who comes near Sicheng. He fears no one. 

When Yuta takes Sicheng back to his small apartment on the outskirts of Itaewon his touch is gentle, but strong. There’s power in his movements, the way he slides Sicheng’s clothes off his body, the way he lays him down in his bed. The room is too small for Yuta’s aura. Sicheng is suffocated. 

“You okay?” Yuta asks gently, rubbing his thumb over Sicheng’s cheekbone. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Sicheng whispers.

And he doesn’t. When his exchange semester ends two months later Sicheng quits the program and moves in with Yuta. 

Sometimes Yuta disappears for days on end. “Important work,” he says, and then he’s gone and Sicheng can’t reach him, not even on that number only he has. Sicheng doesn’t worry when this happens. He knows nothing will happen to Yuta, no matter where he goes. Nakamoto Yuta is the most dangerous man in Seoul. It’s everyone else who needs to worry.

Sicheng isn’t worried, but he is bored. He can’t leave the apartment so he just binges Netflix, orders food in and eats it sitting in front of the TV. Sometimes he FaceTimes his friends in China.

“Sicheng, your place is huge,” Kun says, eyes wide. “What does your boyfriend do?”

“Business,” Sicheng says. It’s Yuta’s go-to answer, the one he first gave Sicheng.

When Yuta finally comes home he’s battered and bruised but alive, and he smiles at Sicheng, that same angelic smile he first gave him in the cafe. Sicheng runs his fingers over the old scars, and around the new healing injuries. He wonders which of these will scar. 

“Hey, baby,” Yuta says, wrapping an arm around Sicheng and pulling him close. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“No, you left me to starve,” Sicheng says, but he burrows into Yuta’s warmth. “I had to cook for myself.”

“Considering our kitchen’s still in one piece, I doubt that,” Yuta says with a smirk. Sicheng shoves him and Yuta sways on his feet, smile still on his face. He’s back and wrapped around Sicheng the next second. 

“Don’t be mean,” Yuta says, nosing at Sicheng’s neck. “It’s been too long. Let me hold you.”

Sicheng stands still and lets Yuta hold him close and breathe deep at his neck. He runs his fingers through Yuta’s long dyed hair. “What did you do?” he murmurs. 

“Just some work,” Yuta says. He kisses Sicheng's neck and then straightens. “Come on, I'm tired of standing here.”

They cuddle on the couch as some bland drama plays on TV. Sicheng pays attention to Yuta only. He links his fingers with Yuta's and wonders what he's been holding in those hands. Yuta doesn't keep any guns in the apartment, at least not anywhere Sicheng can find, but he knows the man is a good shot. No one gets so high up the ladder without knowing how to shoot. But despite Yuta's high position he's still the one they send in when things get tight, when they need to clean up a mess and get it done with no mistakes. Because Yuta is ruthless, a killer who doesn't flinch. 

Sicheng pulls himself up and tilts Yuta's face to kiss him. Yuta returns the kiss sweetly, but Sicheng doesn't want sweet. He's insistent, until Yuta yields and parts his lips for him and takes his tongue into his mouth and kisses him with heat. Sicheng makes a low sound of pleasure into Yuta's mouth. He hooks his leg around Yuta and then gets up and straddles him, gripping Yuta's long silver hair with both hands and tugging. Sicheng wants to taste every corner of his mouth. He wants him. 

He breaks the kiss so that he can give his attention to Yuta's neck and the buttons of his shirt. “Not tonight, baby,” Yuta says, running his hand up Sicheng's thigh. “I'm tired.”

“You don't need to do anything,” Sicheng says. “I'll take care of everything.”

He grinds his hips down onto Yuta's crotch, pulling a sweet sound from his lips. Sicheng smiles at him impishly, and Yuta laughs. “I can't win with you,” he says, squeezing where his hand is on Sicheng's thigh. 

They kiss, wet and messy, while Sicheng rolls his hips against Yuta's hardening crotch. He gets Yuta's shirt off and takes his time admiring his body, his smooth chest and firm abs, the tattoos that stretch across his chest and disappear under the waistband of his pants. There are thin crisscrossing lines of knife slashes near his collarbone, a thick scar on one side of his waist where someone once got close enough to stab him. Sicheng remembers when he asked about it, and how Yuta only shrugged and said the man who did it was left in a worse state. The memory has blood rushing to Sicheng's cock.

Sicheng runs admiring fingers over Yuta's pierced nipple before doubling back and tugging at the metal balls. Yuta sighs softly, hips shifting under Sicheng and seeking more friction. Sicheng obliges, moving his hips until he can feel the hard outline of Yuta's cock between his ass cheeks. 

Sicheng goes to the bedroom on shaky legs and returns with condoms and lube. He slips out of his pants before he climbs back on Yuta's lap, bracketing him with his slender thighs.

“You're gorgeous,” Yuta says, running his hands up Sicheng's naked legs, groping his ass. “Gorgeous, baby, all mine.”

“Yours,” Sicheng breathes out. He leans forward for another kiss.

He doesn't take much care as he stretches himself out with one hand. He's impatient, and Yuta's making it worse, watching him intently. The gaze in his sharp eyes is like a predator's sizing up its prey. It's dangerous, and it makes Sicheng shudder. 

“You're so sexy,” Yuta purrs, feeling Sicheng's legs up. His hands drift to near Sicheng's hard cock but don't touch. “I love the show.”

Sicheng preens under the attention. He didn't like being lavished with attention before, but that was before Yuta. He likes knowing Yuta finds him attractive. He likes being reminded of it.

He pulls Yuta's pants down just enough to free his cock, and strokes him to full hardness. He unrolls the condom over and positions himself at its head.

Yuta watches him with hooded eyes. Sicheng's blood is hot in his veins as he sinks down.

The stretch is uncomfortable, because Sicheng has never been good at prepping himself. He doesn't care. It feels so good, having Yuta inside him, having Yuta's eyes on him. He starts moving. Slowly at first, and then picking up the pace, until he finds a rhythm. 

Yuta's fingers dig into his hips but he only holds him, doesn't help him move. Sicheng pulls off his own shirt so that he's naked, and messes up his hair. He puts his hands on Yuta's firm abdomen to steady himself. He circles his hips and then lifts them before he drops down, tipping his head back with a moan. 

Yuta watches him the entire time with hungry eyes. He lets Sicheng do all the work, until Sicheng is panting and moaning on top of him. Sicheng's thighs ache but it's a good ache, and it's worth it when Yuta moans, when his grip on Sicheng's hips tightens into something painful. 

“So good for me,” Yuta says through a breathy moan. “So good, so pretty.” 

Sicheng keeps working his hips but he can't hit his prostate with the accuracy Yuta has, and he's whining in growing desperation. He takes his aching cock in hand and starts jerking himself off in time with the movement of his hips. Yuta groans at that, and his hips shift. Sicheng clenches around him as he bounces in his lap, until Yuta's cock hits him just right and he's climaxing, spilling over his fingers and onto Yuta under him. 

He stills a moment as he comes down from his high, chest heaving. Yuta's still hard and hot inside him. Sicheng tries to start moving again, but he's drained. He gets off Yuta, gasping as his hard cock slides out of his hole. He sinks to the floor, pulls the condom off and takes Yuta in his mouth.

Yuta moans, rich and deep, and he grabs Sicheng by the hair to pull him close. Sicheng goes willingly, taking Yuta's thick cock in his mouth, down into the tightness of his throat. He holds him there for a few seconds, nose buried in Yuta's neat pubic hair, before he surfaces for a desperate breath. And then Sicheng does it again, and again, letting Yuta fuck his throat. 

When Yuta climaxes with a moan of Sicheng's name, Sicheng struggles to swallow every drop, wiping away any that escapes. He knows Yuta likes it when he swallows. Pleased, Sicheng looks up at Yuta and smiles. 

“Come here,” Yuta says, and Sicheng is tired and lazy but he gets up and climbs onto the sofa anyway and curls up against Yuta's side. Yuta holds Sicheng close and murmurs sweet words into his hair. 

There's a name for what Sicheng is: family wife. An outdated term, since from what Sicheng knows half the family ‘wives’ are men, but the name sticks. Sicheng is not truly part of the family, but he is Yuta's, and they acknowledge it and won't lay a finger on him. He is a family wife. 

Sicheng has never met any of the other family wives, and he only knows about the others in the family itself from what Yuta shares about them. He knows about Johnny, a Korean-American man Yuta respects and genuinely likes. He knows about a kid named Mark Yuta dotes on, and Jaehyun, who has his own family wife that he calls his husband even though they're not married. But Sicheng has never met them. 

“I don't want you getting mixed up in that,” Yuta says whenever Sicheng brings it up. “It's safer if you don't know them.”

Sicheng's safety is the most important thing to Yuta. It's why Sicheng isn't allowed to leave the apartment without Yuta, because Yuta is a big target for the other families, which makes Sicheng a big target by extension. It's a temporary thing, Yuta tells him, just until they take down their biggest threat. Except it's been three years and it's still dangerous, there's always a threat, and Sicheng stays in the apartment as safe as a bird in a cage. 

All of this means Sicheng is surprised when Yuta invites him to a party.

“It's our people only,” Yuta says, chin resting on Sicheng's belly as they lie in bed. “The boss wants everyone to take their partners along. It'll be safe, don't worry. I wouldn't even think about it if I thought you might not be safe.”

Sicheng isn't worried. He's buzzing with excitement. He wants to see the world outside, Yuta's world. It's only a party, nothing dangerous, but it's part of the dangerous Yuta's life. The Yuta that earned the callus on his hands and the bruises on his knuckles, the Yuta that got stabbed in the gut and killed the man that did it, the Yuta the family calls when they need someone terrified or dead. 

“You don't have to go if you don't want to,” Yuta says. 

“I'll go,” Sicheng says. He's so worked up he rides Yuta twice that night before he's sated. 

The night of the party Sicheng is dolled up in an expensive tailored black suit that flatters his tall, slender frame. Yuta wears black too, but where Sicheng's shirt is white and pressed cotton Yuta's is blood red silk, buttons open halfway down to his navel to let some of his tattoos peek out. He combs his long silver hair back, wears a number of heavy rings on his fingers. He looks like a mobster from a cheap movie, and because he's Nakamoto Yuta, the look works. 

The venue is a magnificent two storey house with a huge manicured lawn and topiary and a gigantic front room, which is where the party is held. Sicheng sticks by Yuta's side the entire time. He's not good with new people, naturally shy, but Yuta is there to guide him through all the interactions. Sicheng meets Johnny, and Mark, and Jaehyun and his husband. They're all nice and friendly and Sicheng warms up to them quickly. Sicheng also meets the boss, an old man with a sharp gaze that rakes up and down his body. Sicheng feels Yuta tense beside him. He glances at him and sees Yuta’s hands are balled into fists. 

He would kill him, Sicheng realizes. If the family head touched Sicheng, Yuta would kill him. The realization stirs desire in Sicheng's belly.

Eyes linger on Sicheng all through the event. None of them are as obvious or as greedy as the boss’s, but they’re there. They watch Sicheng in fascination. No one dares look too long though, because they know who Yuta is, and they know who Sicheng is to him.

The night is late when they finally head home. Yuta puts up the partition between them and the driver, and pulls Sicheng close, taking his legs into his lap as he kisses his neck, nipping hard with his teeth. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, face in the crook of Sicheng's neck. “Nobody could take their eyes off you, did you see? They all wanted you.”

Sicheng thinks of Yuta's anger when the boss ogled him, and heat rises in his gut. “But I'm yours,” he says. “Only yours.”

“That's right,” Yuta growls, making the arousal spike in Sicheng. He kisses Sicheng's neck, biting and sucking to leave marks for later. He unbuttons his coat and slides it off his shoulders. 

“Wait until we're home,” Sicheng says, but he presses himself to Yuta's warmth. 

“I can't,” Yuta says, not slowing down as he works on the buttons of Sicheng's shirt. “I want you now, baby.”

And Sicheng wants him too, so he lets Yuta strip him naked, he climbs into Yuta's lap and kisses him openmouthed and sloppy. When Yuta lays him down and pushes his thighs up, Sicheng is pliant. 

“Can you take me dry?” Yuta asks. 

He has to, it doesn't matter now. Sicheng nods anyway. 

He's still stretched out from when Yuta fucked him before they left for the party, and Yuta's spit-slicked fingers enter with little resistance. Yuta gathers spit in his mouth before letting it dribble past his lips and into Sicheng's hole. Sicheng whimpers, and only gets louder when Yuta eats him out, sliding his wet tongue inside as he pulls his cheeks apart with strong hands. 

When Yuta has done as much prep as he can, he spits on the head of his cock and spreads it down the shaft. And then, very slowly, he pushes into Sicheng. 

It hurts. Sicheng cries out from the pain. Yuta stills, but Sicheng wants him more than he hates the sting, and he hooks a leg around him and urges him closer. Yuta gets the hint and keeps going, until he's inside Sicheng to the hilt.

“You're so tight,” Yuta says. “You're squeezing me so well, baby. I love it.”

“You can move,” Sicheng says, gasping for breath. “Please move.”

Yuta starts with shallow thrusts. It hurts bad, but Sicheng likes the pain, and it isn't long before he's moaning, urging Yuta to go faster, harder. Yuta increases his speed and the force of his thrusts, until he's pounding into Sicheng, bending him in half as he attacks his prostate. 

It's so much. Sicheng is crying from the onslaught of sensations, pleasure and pain all mixed up in one. He nearly screams when Yuta takes hold of his neglected cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts. Yuta comes first, filling Sicheng up with liquid heat, and his erratic thrusts as he fucks Sicheng through his orgasm are enough to push Sicheng over the edge too. He stains Yuta's fingers and his own belly with white, and then he falls limp on the limousine seat as Yuta slows and then finally stops his hips. 

They stay like that, both of them trying to catch their breath. Sicheng is aching and exhausted and satisfied. 

“Are you okay?” Yuta asks. “Was I too rough?”

“No,” Sicheng says. “You were perfect.”

Yuta cleans him up with his expensive shirt, treating it like it's nothing more than a rag. He buttons Sicheng's coat over his bare torso. When they climb out of the limousine at their apartment building Yuta watches the driver with a sharp gaze, like he's trying to squeeze it out of him if he made the fatal mistake of seeing Sicheng naked. Sicheng smiles to himself as the driver quails. 

After the party, Sicheng becomes greedy. He wants more. He wants to see more of Yuta's world, be part of his world outside their apartment. He's tired of being in his cage. He wants to spread his wings and fly.

“I want to go out,” he says one day, while they're getting ready for bed. 

“Right now?” Yuta asks. He grins. “You couldn't tell me before I changed for bed?”

“Not now,” Sicheng says. “I want to leave the apartment, Yuta.”

A frown touches Yuta's face. “And go where?”

“Anywhere,” Sicheng says. “I don't want to spend all my life here.”

“I take you out whenever you want to go,” Yuta says. 

“It's not about that,” Sicheng says, shaking his head. “I want to go out without you sometimes too.”

“You know it's not safe,” Yuta says. “I'm trying to protect you.”

“How long is it not going to be safe?” Sicheng asks. He's trying not to get upset. “It's been more than three years. You can't lock me up in here.”

“That's not what I'm doing,” Yuta insists. “I just need to keep you safe, baby.”

“I can't keep living like this,” Sicheng says. 

Silence falls. And then Yuta says, “Do you want to leave me?” 

“No,” Sicheng says, shocked. “I just want to be free.”

“By leaving me,” Yuta says.

“No,” Sicheng says, shaking his head. “No, no, no.” He can't ever leave Yuta. 

Yuta looks at him intently, and when he's finally convinced Sicheng is telling the truth he takes a deep breath. “I can't give you any more,” he says. “Not if it means you might get hurt.” His features are grim, and Sicheng knows he always means what he says when he's serious.

It's their first real fight. In almost four years they've never fought for so long. Yuta can't stay mad at Sicheng, and Sicheng never pushes too hard. But this time neither of them will give in. 

Yuta still holds Sicheng close in bed, and cooks what he likes for their meals. But they eat in unhappy silence. Sicheng sits next to him as he watches movies, but he doesn't kiss him or hold his hand. It's tense and uncomfortable and they both hate it.

In the end, Yuta breaks. 

“What do you want?” he asks, sitting opposite Sicheng at the dining table. “What'll make you happy?”

“I want to be able to go out when I feel like it, whether you're there or not,” Sicheng says. 

For some time Yuta is silent, thinking this over. Finally, he says, “Not alone?”

“Not alone,” Sicheng says. He's okay with not going alone, he knows Yuta would never let him go alone. 

“Then you can go with someone to protect you,” Yuta says. “Mark, or Johnny, or one of the other guys I trust.” He bites his lip. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Sicheng says, and his heart sings. “Yes, Yuta, that's okay.”

Yuta breaks into a relieved smile. He holds out his hands on the tabletop, and Sicheng puts his own into them. The smile on Yuta's face widens. “You know I'm only doing this because I don't want anything to happen to you,” he says, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Sicheng's hands. 

“I know,” Sicheng says. 

“You're so special, so precious to me,” Yuta says, looking at their linked hands. “I'm scared I'll lose you.”

Sicheng's heart thumps in his chest. He's never heard Yuta admit to being scared before. Yuta has been shot and stabbed and he's killed more people than Sicheng knows. Yuta is the most dangerous man in Seoul. 

But because of Sicheng, he's scared. 

“You'll never lose me,” Sicheng says. “I'm yours, forever.” 

He gets up and walks over to Yuta's side of the table. He slides into Yuta's lap, and Yuta encircles his waist with his arms and looks up at him. Sicheng kisses him, long and deep. 

Mark is Sicheng's usual bodyguard. He's a little younger than Sicheng and he seems awkward, but there's always a gun hidden under his clothes, and one day he confesses to Sicheng that he's one of the best marksmen in the family. Sometimes Johnny takes over, when he's free and feels like it, and sometimes it's a young man named Jeno. Sicheng ends up becoming friendly with all of them. 

In the month leading up to Sicheng’s birthday Yuta is busy. “Work,” he says, and he disappears for the next two weeks. Sicheng isn't worried, but he is lonely without him. He mentions it in passing to Mark when they're out buying groceries. 

“He's at the house, you can go see him,” the younger man says, shrugging.

The house. It's the family house, where Mark and Johnny live. Yuta divides his time between the house and his apartment with Sicheng, staying there when he has important work. Sicheng has never been to the house. He doesn't even know where it is. 

“Can you take me there?” Sicheng asks. 

“Sure,” Mark says. “Tell me what day's good for you.”

But Yuta hears about it, because Mark calls Sicheng the next day and apologizes. “I didn't know you never came here,” he says. “Sorry. Yuta hyung said I shouldn't have agreed.”

“It's okay,” Sicheng says. He's not mad at Mark, or even at Yuta. He should know better than to try and go without first talking to Yuta. 

When Yuta shows up at the apartment two days later, he smiles so bright and beautiful Sicheng forgets all about his promise to talk to him about seeing the house. Yuta doesn't bring it up either. They spend their time going on dates, watching dramas, cuddling. 

Sicheng apologizes once, but before he can even talk about why Yuta says it's okay and kisses him, and for the rest of the night Sicheng is kept busy. Sicheng can tell that Yuta considers the matter closed after that, and he doesn't get the chance to bring it up again. Yuta is very good at distracting him. 

For Sicheng’s birthday Yuta gives him a choker adorned with diamonds, and a hand chain to match. Sicheng admires the silver and diamonds on his fingers and wrist while Yuta puts the choker on. Yuta ushers him to the full body mirror on the bedroom wall so that he can see what he looks like with it on. 

“Gorgeous,” Yuta says, pressing a kiss to the side of Sicheng's neck. 

Sicheng sighs and rests his head against Yuta's. He watches Yuta kiss him, their gazes locked in the mirror. 

“You should know how beautiful you are,” Yuta says, lips against Sicheng's skin, eyes hooded as he looks at Sicheng through the mirror. A shudder runs down Sicheng's spine. 

“Do you?” Yuta asks, as he slides his hands in under Sicheng's shirt. His eyes are on Sicheng all the while. “Do you know how stunning you are? Do you know how many men would kill to touch you like I am now?”

Arousal curls in Sicheng's gut. “Would you?” he whispers. 

Yuta lifts his head so that his breath runs against the shell of Sicheng's ear. “You know I would, baby,” he says, and Sicheng's blood burns hotter. 

Yuta strips him slowly, taking his time, running his fingers against his skin. By the end Sicheng is hard, his cock flushed pink and curling up towards his belly. He stares at it in the mirror, equal parts embarrassed and fascinated. 

“Pretty, isn't it?” Yuta says, hands roaming around Sicheng's thighs.

Sicheng looks at their reflection and sees Yuta watching him with a smirk. He blushes red hot. 

“You don't need to be shy,” Yuta says. “You're beautiful.”

Sicheng's gaze drifts down his body's reflection. Tall frame, smooth chest, long legs. And Yuta's hands over his skin, admiring, adoring. 

One of his hands goes to Sicheng's cock, and Sicheng gasps at the sweet friction. Another goes up to pinch and tug at his sensitive nipple. Sicheng moans and tips his head back onto Yuta's shoulder, his legs going weak as Yuta continues to pump his erection.

“So beautiful,” Yuta breathes out. He digs a nail into the slit at the head of Sicheng's cock, and Sicheng mewls. “Look at yourself, baby. Look at how fucking gorgeous you are.”

Sicheng raises his head to see. His face is flushed, his ears bright red. His cock is hard and the tip is leaking, glistening with precum. He watches Yuta rub it with a thumb and spread it down his length and he moans, the sensation doubled somehow from watching it happen. Sicheng's dark hair is messy, and he can see the glint of diamonds in the hand he has bent behind him to grip Yuta's hair. 

Yuta moves the hand from Sicheng's nipple up to his throat to finger at the diamond choker. Sicheng's heart races, heat surging in his gut, and his hips buck up into Yuta's hand. 

“Do you want me?” Yuta's breath is hot on Sicheng's ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?” 

Sicheng nods fervently, eyes falling closed. 

Yuta snickers. “I'll be right back.”

He lets go of Sicheng and moves away. Sicheng almost falls to the floor without the support. In seconds Yuta returns, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and rubbing them to warm it up. 

He starts with one finger, slipping in easily. Sicheng sighs, sated a little by the growing anticipation. Yuta grabs one of Sicheng's thighs and hikes it up, and Sicheng has to reach behind him for Yuta's shoulders to keep his balance. Like this, he can see Yuta's fingers sliding in and out of his hole in the mirror, glistening with the lube, and it looks so obscene Sicheng shudders and holds back a moan. It's filthy, the way Yuta stretches him out with two fingers and then three, until he's loose enough to take Yuta's thick cock. 

“Stunning,” Yuta says, but Sicheng thinks he looks like a slut. He looks like Yuta's slut, and his cock throbs at the thought. 

Yuta slides down his pants just enough to take his cock out and roll the condom on, and then he's bending Sicheng over and sliding in. 

The stretch is good, comfortable, and Sicheng moans at finally being filled up. He braces his hands on the mirror for support as Yuta starts moving, slow at first, and then quickly increasing his pace. When Sicheng raises his head he can see his face, up close, flushed and with his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Yuta shifts and the new angle makes Sicheng cry out. He sees the pleasure pass across his face, the way his mouth falls open, and it makes him burn up. It's embarrassment, but it's also arousal and a strange pleasure.

Yuta is right. He does look beautiful. 

Sicheng watches himself in the mirror as Yuta fucks him, the grip bruising on his hips just the way he likes it, until he almost can't recognize the face in the reflection as his own. Yuta moves his hips in sharp, strong strokes, merciless. His thrusts have Sicheng weak from the force and the pleasure wracking his body. His arms are losing strength and he drops his head, lost in the sensation. 

Yuta puts his arm around Sicheng's chest and yanks him upright. Sicheng cries out, fingers scrabbling for purchase anywhere he can find it, falling apart with the new angle. Yuta moves his hand to in between Sicheng's legs to touch him there, and it's not long before Sicheng climaxes. He clenches tight around Yuta as he does, and Yuta soon follows him over the edge, fucking him through his orgasm until he's spent. 

Sicheng is weak and lazy after, letting Yuta clean him and move him around like a doll. He sighs in contentment when they're finally cuddled together in bed. 

He has his head on Yuta's chest while Yuta reads a book. Sicheng admires the silver and diamonds on his hand in the golden lamplight. He wonders what Yuta did to be able to afford it. 

“Yuta,” he murmurs.

Yuta hums to show he's listening.

“I want to go to the house,” Sicheng says.

“The house? You mean to your parents’?” Yuta's eyes are still on the page. “Give me a week. I need to get the papers ready.”

“No, Yuta,” Sicheng says. “I want to go to the house. The family house.”

Yuta stops. He puts the book away and looks down at Sicheng. “Why?” he asks. “There's nothing there, baby.”

“Mark told me you were there,” Sicheng says. 

“Only when things are busy,” Yuta says. “Otherwise I'm here with you.”

“You don't need to keep moving here and back,” Sicheng says, “if you just let me go there.”

Yuta sighs. “Sicheng…”

Sicheng gets up and straddles Yuta. “Please,” he says, running his hands over his tattooed chest. “I want to go there.”

“I don't want you getting tangled up with all that,” Yuta says. “You're safe here.”

“I'd be just as safe there,” Sicheng argues. “Even safer. Johnny and Mark and everyone is there, right? I would never be alone. I'd always have someone to look after me.”

“They're not the only ones there,” Yuta says. 

“You don't trust the others in your family?” Sicheng's fingers circle Yuta's nipple piercing.

Yuta puts his hand over Sicheng's. “I don't trust anyone completely when it comes to you,” he says.

Sicheng's heart swells. “I'll be okay there, I promise,” he says. “No one would dare. Not when they know what you'd do to them.”

“I know that,” Yuta says. He curses, brow furrowing as he turns away from Sicheng. “What if something happens to me, baby? If I get caught… if you're here you can pretend like you didn't know—”

“What?” Sicheng is in disbelief. “If something happens to you, you want me to keep living like nothing's wrong? I can't do that.”

“You should,” Yuta says. He turns back to Sicheng, and his face is sincere, serious. “You should live a normal life. I should never have taken that from you. If I were a better man I would've let you go.”

“I wouldn't have gone,” Sicheng says. His heart aches, and Yuta is the only thing that can soothe it. He leans forward onto him, tucking his face in under his chin and curling up on his chest. “Don't let me go,” he whispers. 

“I can't,” Yuta says, arms going around Sicheng. The warmth is so good Sicheng thinks he might cry. “I can't ever let you go.” 

“I'm yours,” Sicheng says. 

Yuta's embrace tightens. “Mine,” he says. 

“I want to be with you,” Sicheng says. “Every part of you. I know I'll be safe. I don't want to be away from you anymore.”

For some time Yuta is silent. And then he says, “I'll think about it.”

Three weeks later Sicheng moves into the family house. 

The house is on the outskirts of Seoul, with a sprawling front lawn and a backyard that backs up against a steep hill. There are many rooms, and for a long time Sicheng has trouble finding his way. Thankfully Yuta is there to help him navigate, as patient and as sweet as that angel in the cafe. 

Johnny and Mark do live in the house, but Jeno doesn't. Sicheng learns that only the upper ranks of the organization get the honor of staying at the house; the lower members rotate out. Yuta, of course, has fixed rooms on the first floor, and it's these rooms Sicheng moves into. 

The house is a lot busier than the apartment building. Any time Sicheng leaves their rooms he runs into someone that knows him, or Yuta, and they're usually friendly and want to talk. The men that rotate out don't dare approach, and most won't even look him in the eye, ducking their heads and bowing. Sicheng feels like modern royalty. Even better than royalty, because it's not Yuta's bloodline that earned him the treatment, it's the blood he's spilled.

He notices that Jaehyun's husband, as a fellow family wife, doesn't get the same treatment, and he mentions it to Yuta. Yuta smiles and says, “You're different.”

“Because of you,” Sicheng says. “You're dangerous.”

Yuta laughs and kisses Sicheng, pulling him close, and Sicheng forgets all other questions.

But he knows he's right. The higher guys in the family know and trust Yuta, but the new ones are terrified of him. They bow quickly when they see him, and avoid him when they can. They know Yuta is not someone they can afford to anger, so they know Sicheng is not to be messed with. 

The thought is exhilarating. Sicheng lives in a house of thieves and murderers, and none of them will dare touch him because they know who he belongs to. 

Sicheng crosses paths with the boss sometimes. The old man doesn't pay him much attention, probably because he has even prettier people around him all the time—there's a very beautiful woman usually hanging off his arm, and sometimes a very beautiful man. Sicheng mentions this to Yuta too, and Yuta snorts.

“You're more beautiful than any of them,” he says, and Sicheng giggles and kisses him because that's exactly what he expected him to say. 

Yuta is often busy, sometimes in meetings inside the house, other times going to offices in Seoul. One day as the sun sets Sicheng goes to their rooms to find him dressed and ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

“Work,” Yuta says. 

He kisses Sicheng before he leaves, long and deep. Then he's gone. 

But Sicheng isn't alone. He wanders the house until he finds a familiar face, Jaehyun in the kitchen getting a snack, and tries to keep himself busy. He learns from him that it's not only Yuta; Johnny and Mark are gone too, along with some of the lower ranked members, all on the same job. 

“They'll be fine,” Jaehyun says. 

Sicheng hopes so. He likes Johnny and Mark, and he doesn't want them to die. He knows Yuta will be fine. 

They're gone for a long time, but Sicheng is used to waiting. He hears from Donghyuck that the job was a success, but hours after that they still don't return to the house. Sicheng sighs and hopes Yuta hasn't gotten himself another scar. He thinks they're sexy, but Yuta sometimes picks at them, and Sicheng hates that.

It's past two in the morning when the cars pull up to the house. 

Mark enters first, and he looks fine, though tired. Johnny isn't there, but before Sicheng can worry Mark tells him that the older man is fine, just gone to see his boyfriend in Seoul. Sicheng is relieved. A few more guys enter, those that won't look at Sicheng directly, and Sicheng doesn't bother with them. He doesn't care about them.

Yuta is the last person to walk into the house. 

His sleeves are spattered with blood. There's traces of it on his hands and face too, from where it was carelessly wiped away. Sicheng is about to go to his side, when he sees Yuta properly and stops.

The look on Yuta's face is murderous. Sicheng stands where he is, off to one side. He's never seen Yuta like this. Yuta looks like he'd rip apart anyone who even looked at him wrong, like he's looking for an excuse to do it. He looks like a killer.

“Where the fuck is Jungwoo?” he snaps. “He said there were only six guys in there. There were not only six fucking guys in there.”

“Hyung, it's okay,” Mark says.

“No, it's not,” Yuta growls. “Jeno’ll be limping for a week, if he's lucky. Now someone tell me where the fucking hell Kim Jungwoo is.” 

No one answers. Everyone around Yuta shrinks away, avoiding eye contact. He looks around viciously, trying to find the man, when his eyes land on Sicheng in the corner. 

He stops. All at once all the fire leaves him, and Yuta just stares at Sicheng, like he doesn't think he's really there. Sicheng smiles awkwardly and walks up to him. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks.

“No,” Yuta says. He still looks kind of lost. 

Sicheng smiles. “I'm glad.”

Yuta blinks at Sicheng, and then he says, “I'm sorry,” and walks away. 

For some time Sicheng is too surprised and confused to react. When he snaps out of it he quickly follows. 

He finds Yuta in their bedroom, jacket discarded somewhere as he stands in the middle of the room. He raises his head as Sicheng enters, and the look on his face is full of pain and regret. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I'm so sorry.”

Sicheng hangs back. “Tell me what you're sorry for first,” he says.

“You weren't supposed to see that,” Yuta says. He's worked up, and runs both hands through his hair. “You shouldn't have been there.”

“You didn't do anything,” Sicheng says.

But Yuta shakes his head. “That's not who I am with you,” he says. 

“But that is you,” Sicheng says, as he walks up to him. “It's another part of you.”

“Yes,” Yuta says, looking hurt. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Sicheng says. He trails a finger along Yuta's bloodstained collar. “I like every part of you, Yuta.” 

“You don't know that part,” Yuta says. “If you did, you wouldn't say that.”

“I want to,” Sicheng says. “I want to know all about it. I know you've always tried to hide it from me, like I could ever forget what you are.”

Yuta swallows. He looks like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

“I know what you are,” Sicheng continues. “You don't need to hide it from me. I'm not scared of you.” He puts his arms around Yuta's neck. “I don't hate you.”

“I deceived you,” Yuta says. “You didn't know what you were getting into when you fell for me.”

“I always knew you were dangerous,” Sicheng says. “It's another thing that drew me to you. It's another thing I like about you.”

Yuta exhales, eyes falling closed. “Sicheng.”

Sicheng leans forward and kisses Yuta sweetly. “I'm yours,” he says.

“I'm not a good man,” Yuta says, voice tight. “It's just a job to me and I've never enjoyed doing it, but I have hurt people. They're all scared of me for a reason.”

“I know,” Sicheng says. He kisses the corner of Yuta's mouth. “I'm not.”

For some time Yuta doesn't say anything, and Sicheng takes the chance to kiss his cheeks, the corners of his lips, the line of his jaw. He doesn't usually do affection like this, but he thinks Yuta appreciates it at the moment. 

Slowly, Yuta's arms go around Sicheng's waist.

Sicheng smiles. He noses at Yuta's ear and the edge of his jawline. “Is this your blood?” he asks.

“No,” Yuta says. “None of it is mine.”

“That's good,” Sicheng says. He finds a stretch of Yuta's neck free of blood and latches his teeth into it. Yuta smells of sweat and blood, and it's intoxicating.

“Let me shower first,” Yuta says. 

“No, you smell so good,” Sicheng says, lapping at Yuta's skin. He picks a spot he knows Yuta likes and starts biting a mark into it for later. Yuta sighs and buries a hand into Sicheng's hair.

“You're something special, you know?” he says with a chuckle. “How are you in the mood now?”

“Want you,” Sicheng mumbles, pressing his body against Yuta's. “Want you to fuck me. Yuta, please.”

Yuta groans and wraps his arms around him to hold him where he is. “Don't say things like that, baby,” he says. “You make it so hard for me to control myself.”

Sicheng smiles where his face is tucked against Yuta's neck. He's taller than Yuta, though it's easy to forget because of the size of Yuta's aura. He starts nipping at Yuta's skin again, pressing his body heat against him, trying to grind against him. 

Yuta lifts Sicheng's head with a gentle but firm hand in his hair and kisses him. Sicheng parts his lips for him and takes his tongue into his mouth, moaning softly at the taste of him. He scrabbles at the buttons of his shirt. Yuta's lips curl into a smile against Sicheng's and he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He lets Sicheng slide it off his shoulders, and then starts on his while Sicheng runs his hands over his bare skin. 

“You're not hurt?” Sicheng mumbles against the corner of Yuta's mouth. He feels Yuta's chest for new injuries, but can't find any. 

“No, baby, I'm fine,” Yuta says. He latches onto Sicheng's mouth again as he takes off his pants, and Sicheng clings to his bare shoulders when he steps out of them. 

He's naked now, half hard as he stands in the middle of the bedroom. Yuta takes a step back to admire him, gaze roaming down to his feet and then all the way back, and Sicheng fights the urge to hide his hot face behind his hands. 

“Gorgeous,” Yuta says, running appreciative fingers over Sicheng's hip.

He moves him over to the bed and sits him down at the edge. Sicheng reaches for Yuta's belt, but Yuta gently moves his hands away. Instead he goes down on his knees, kneeling in front of him. Yuta spreads Sicheng's legs, and then looks up at a furiously blushing Sicheng. He maintains eye contact as he kisses the side of Sicheng's knee, and then the inside of his thigh, slowly moving up his leg. 

When Yuta finally presses his lips to the head of his cock, Sicheng whines. Yuta smiles, and he looks so angelic, even when his actions are the exact opposite. It has Sicheng even more aroused.

Yuta teases him with kitten licks to the tip while he holds the shaft with only his fingertips. Sicheng first gasps, then he whines, squirming where he's seated. Yuta circles the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue, then he closes his lips around the head and sucks, tongue pressed against the slit. Sicheng cries out, fingers gripping the sheets hard. He has to fight not to close his legs.

Yuta pulls off with a wet sound. “Sorry, baby, you know I can't resist teasing you,” he says. “You're too cute like this.” He looks up at Sicheng, and his lips are wet and shiny. “Do you want to come in my mouth? I'll still fuck you after.”

Sicheng nods quickly. He might regret this later when he's dying from overstimulation, but right now he doesn't care. Yuta gives him another angelic smile, and then he takes him back in his mouth.

This time he takes Sicheng's cock as deep as he can, until the tip touches the back of his mouth. Yuta hollows his cheeks and sucks, tongue flat along the underside. Sicheng moans, deep and throaty, sinking his fingers into Yuta's hair. Yuta pulls away, but he's back licking up the shaft, nibbling at the tip. One of his hands massage Sicheng's balls while the other works at the base of his throbbing erection. He continues sucking at the head, tongue against the underside.

Sicheng's orgasm hits him unexpectedly. He barely has time to choke out a warning before he comes, filling Yuta's mouth. Yuta pulls off coughing and spluttering. 

“You could've warned me,” he says, but he's not upset. 

“Sorry,” Sicheng says. He makes grabby hands at Yuta, and Yuta smiles and rises to kiss him. Sicheng can taste his cum when he licks into Yuta's mouth. It's filthy and he loves it.

Yuta moves Sicheng to lay him down on his back. He kneels between his spread legs, but he doesn't do anything, he just watches Sicheng. 

“You're so beautiful,” Yuta says. “Sometimes I'm scared I'll break you.”

“You won't,” Sicheng says. “I don't break that easy.”

A smile touches the corner of Yuta's lips. He leans over to kiss Sicheng. It's sweet and gentle, and Sicheng feels himself melt into it. When Yuta straightens his eyes are warm, and he looks at Sicheng with so much adoration. He runs his hand down the inside of Sicheng's slender thigh, from his knee to beside his spent cock. Sicheng shudders. He's sensitive from his recent orgasm and the anticipation is already building in his gut. He wants Yuta to touch him. He wants him to wreck him.

Yuta stops suddenly, frowning. “One minute, baby,” he says. “I need to wash my hands.”

Sicheng immediately locks his legs around Yuta's waist, trapping him. “Are you serious?” he says. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I'm not letting some bastard's blood get on you,” Yuta says. When Sicheng won't let go, he curses and says, “Fine.” He hikes Sicheng's legs closer, half taking him onto his lap. Sicheng yelps as Yuta bends him in half to lean forward and rummage in their bedside drawer. He finally comes back with a pack of wet wipes. 

“Happy?” he says, and then snorts and smiles to himself as he wipes his hands. “You're kind of weird.”

Sicheng hums. “You have some on your face too.”

Yuta mutters another curse and wipes at his face.

“How did that happen?” Sicheng asks. 

“You don't want to know,” Yuta says.

Sicheng circles a nipple with a finger, not close enough to feel good, just enough to draw Yuta's attention. “I want to know,” he says. 

Yuta follows his movements, and then his eyes go up to Sicheng's face. “I shot someone,” he says. “In the shoulder. There was a lot of spatter.”

“Yeah?” Sicheng sighs. He runs his fingers over his nipple, and whimpers. He's still high on sensitivity. 

“Yeah.” Yuta pulls Sicheng's hand away from his chest as he leans down to kiss him. Sicheng wraps his arms around Yuta's neck and kisses him wet and lazy, licking into the heat of his mouth. 

Yuta's fingers pinch one of Sicheng's sensitive nipples. Sicheng gasps with a start, and whines when Yuta doesn't stop, rolling the nub between his fingers. Yuta moves down Sicheng's body and latches onto the other nipple with his lips. Sicheng moans, squirms as Yuta works his tongue around it and sucks. His body jerks when he feels Yuta's teeth graze against it. 

Yuta trails kisses down Sicheng’s body as he moves down. Sicheng’s every muscle is taut with anticipation, and it gets worse when Yuta briefly straightens to get the lube from the drawer. He knows what’s coming. His nerves are thrumming in his skin.

Shudders run up and down his body as Yuta kisses his thighs, his lower belly. He feels slick fingers circle his entrance and he gasps, braces his feet against the bed.

When Yuta’s lips touch the head of his cock Sicheng cries out.

It’s so much. It’s too much. His body screams with oversensitivity as Yuta laps at his cock while his fingers stretch out his hole. Sicheng sobs and whines, back arching off the bed as he tries desperately to escape. He’s still so sensitive and it hurts, the sensation is overwhelming, it’s so much he can’t think, he can’t breathe. He writhes in the sheets as Yuta takes his hardening cock back into the wet heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue along the head as he slides in a third finger. 

Yuta straightens and he stops, fingers retreating from where they were busy in Sicheng’s entrance. Sicheng gasps and pants for air, chest heaving. Every nerve in his body is heightened, and he can feel the sheets stick to his sweaty body, the gentle hand Yuta has at his knee.

“Do you want to stop?” Yuta asks. “Slow down?” 

“No,” Sicheng says between desperate pants. A tear slides out of his eye.

Yuta leans forward to wipe it away with a thumb. “We’ll slow down for a second.”

Sicheng closes his eyes and turns his head. Yuta always understands him. He lays still like that a moment, while Yuta rubs soothing circles into his knee. When he’s sure he’s not dying, Sicheng says, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Yuta asks gently. 

“Yes,” Sicheng says. “Please fuck me.”

Yuta leans over him and kisses him again, sweet. When he pulls away his gaze is warm with fondness.

He enters him slow. Sicheng gasps, and then sighs as he feels Yuta fill him up inch by inch, until he bottoms out. He stretches and moans when Yuta’s cock shifts inside him.

“You’re gorgeous,” Yuta says. “So beautiful. All mine.”

Sicheng looks up at him. “Yours.”

Yuta starts moving his hips. The pace is slow at first, thrusts shallow to give Sicheng time to get used to them. Sicheng whimpers, and then moans, loving the feeling of Yuta inside him. He's hard again, and he wants more. Yuta quickens his pace, going faster, harder, grinding his hips deep inside. His cock brushes against Sicheng's sweet spot, and Sicheng cries out, arching his back.

“Yes, there,” he says, gasping. “Please, Yuta, there, there.”

“Can you take it, baby?” Yuta asks, voice tight. 

“Yes,” Sicheng says, panting. “Yes.”

Yuta says something, but it's lost in Sicheng's cry as he bends him in half, shifting his legs to his shoulders. This new angle is everything, it's just right, and Sicheng moans and throws his head back onto the pillows. Yuta holds Sicheng's thighs in a bruising grip and he thrusts into him, hard, hips snapping forward. The pace he sets is brutal, merciless. Sicheng can hear the bed shift in time to the rhythm, he can hear himself moan and cry out and pathetically call out Yuta's name, but none of it registers in his brain. All he can think of is Yuta, the force of his thrusts, the pleasure that shoots up his spine with every snap of his hips.

He comes, untouched, back arching off the bed as he paints his belly and chest with it. Yuta doesn't slow his pace, continues fucking Sicheng through it, until Sicheng is crying out in renewed oversensitivity. Yuta's hips slow to a stop and he lowers Sicheng's thighs, but before he can pull out Sicheng hooks a leg around him.

“Inside,” he says, heaving for breath. “Inside me, please.”

Yuta doesn't try to argue. He hikes up one of Sicheng's legs and starts moving his hips again, in long, slow strokes this time, deep and grinding. He's trying to draw it out. Under him Sicheng covers his face with his arms and sobs, because it hurts but it feels so good. 

When Yuta picks up the pace, he takes hold of Sicheng's hardening cock and strokes him in time. Yuta's thrusts become erratic and careless as he gets closer to his climax. With a low moan he finally comes, buried deep in Sicheng's tightness, filling him up with liquid heat. It's enough to tip Sicheng over for the third time that night, and he trembles as he comes before he falls limp, drained and exhausted.

He's half asleep as Yuta pulls out and cleans him up. He's half in a dream when Yuta pulls him close into his warmth and holds him, like a shield against everything else in the world. 

“Baby?”

Sicheng hums sleepily.

“Did you mean what you said?” Yuta asks.

Sicheng nods where his head is against Yuta's chest.

Yuta chuckles. “You didn't even ask what I was talking about.”

“Doesn't matter,” Sicheng mumbles. “I meant it all.”

He feels Yuta go still for a moment, and then his hand starts carding through Sicheng's hair. It's gentle, like his fingers always are when he's with Sicheng, no matter what his knuckles are used for with other people.

“I'm yours,” Sicheng says.

“Only mine,” Yuta says, tightening his embrace.

Sicheng places a hand on Yuta's scarred, tattooed chest. “And you're mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading


End file.
